


Mouthful

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Cock Warming, First Time, Friendship, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Oral Fixation, Pining, Season/Series 06, Shiro (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Shiro (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Shiro's new body is riddled with humming anxiety, that it's wrong, that he's wrong. When Keith notices Shiro's oral fixation to stem his nerves, Shiro wants to stay silent, but he can't help but open his mouth
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 366





	Mouthful

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a fic thread on twitter that (as usual) got out of hand. It was my first time writing Shiro with an oral fixation and cock warming but I loved writing both so I hope everyone likes it.
> 
> All the love to starlitruns for giving me the confidence to finish the thread then helping to beta this and coming up with the title and summary when my brain went full mush. You're amazing.

Shiro’s not sure when the mouth thing started. As a kid he’d certainly gravitated towards oral stimulation—biting his lollipops instead of sucking, chewing chocolate instead of letting it melt in his mouth and often chewing off the erasers on the end of his pencils. It was a habit Shiro trained himself out of having because there was no room at the Garrison for something like this.

So when Shiro’s consciousness is put into a new body after a year of feeling nothing, he’s not that surprised to find he always wants something in his mouth. It’s been so long since he could chew or suck or bite. It makes sense, he tells himself.

Except as the weeks go on, the habit increases. It’s small at first—chewing on the end of his Datapadd pen or the straws on his hydration pouch. When that’s not enough he finds a way to barter for a case of the equivalent of space suckers at an outpost they stop at for much needed supplies.  
He goes through the case of suckers in a week. He hopes no one will notice.

Keith notices.

Shiro’s aware of dark eyes following his movements, but in typical Keith fashion he doesn’t say anything and Shiro naively allows him to think that will be the end of it.

A week later while running a diagnostic on the bridge, Keith pulls a sucker from his pocket. It’s not the same variety Shiro was eating before but the sight of it has Shiro’s heart thrumming.

“Thanks,” Shiro murmurs as he pulls off the wrapper and pops it in his mouth. It hits his taste buds with a strange mix of acidity and tang. It’s unfamiliar, almost alien like, and Shiro kind of loves it. 

The next day Keith presents him with another, and the following day the same thing. Shiro doesn’t ask where they’re coming from or why Keith has them because that would involve admitting things he’s not ready to admit—namely how much worse his oral fixation is becoming.

Movements turn into phoebs and Shiro adjusts to his new body. Sort of. Every sound stops making his eardrums feel like they might explode and every touch stops making him feel like crying. His nervous system still feels pretty out of sorts, but it becomes something Shiro can manage most of the time. The mouth thing, though, that won’t go away. 

It’s not long before Keith starts carrying around some of the weird sour space suckers he seems to have an unlimited supply of at all times. There are other things he does too, like encouraging Hunk to make something besides space goo for some different oral stimulation which is good, great even.

Until it’s not.

Until the dreams of his time in captivity and fight with Keith start coming more often instead of less. Until the feeling that Shiro’s body isn’t his own increases with every dream, reminding him the cost of his own skin and bones. 

Were it any one of the other Paladins suffering, Shiro would urge them to seek help, to open up to their friends and find a support system. But Shiro’s not one of the Paladins. He’s not even a Paladin anymore. So he says nothing, terrified of being even more of a burden than he already is. 

He wakes up with an aching jaw from grinding his teeth and starts biting his nails. He even chews a hole in the end of his Datapadd pen because the only time the buzzing anxiety in his brain quiets is when his mouth is full.

This, too, he hopes Keith won’t notice.

Keith is already trying so hard to help Shiro adjust to his new body and his new place with the Paladins. It’s more than Shiro feels he deserves and the last thing he has any intention of saying is that it’s not enough.

One day Shiro realizes the little water pouches that Coran plies them with to stay hydrated have little straws perfect for chewing and he starts sneaking extras to keep in his room. He goes through so many hydration pouches just for the little straws that he’s sure the others must notice how quickly their supply is dwindling. No one says anything, though, and for a little while Shiro deludes himself into thinking no one has noticed.

They didn’t notice when he was missing and there was a clone in his place; perhaps it makes sense they don’t notice this too. It’s a thought that makes guilt churn in his belly because it’s unkind. Shiro loves his friends and he knows they love him. But Shiro is not always kind. 

Shiro is not a lot of things anymore.

Movements pass and though Keith’s gaze sometimes lingers, he doesn’t say anything about the trail of chewed up straws Shiro leaves in his wake or the way Shiro’s been biting his nails so low some of them are bleeding. 

Keith doesn’t say a lot of things. Then again, Shiro isn’t one to talk since he doesn’t say them either.

There’s so much Shiro wants to say to Keith—so much gratitude and devotion he wants to convey—but on the other end of those words are unknowns Shiro is not prepared to deal with. He barely feels tethered to this reality as it is and the last thing he wants to do is risk losing his anchor. Even Shiro’s bravery has limits.

Shiro’s limit, it turns out, involves doing anything that might risk damaging his friendship with Keith,the one thing he can never lose.

Keith’s silence lures Shiro into a false sense of security.

One tick Keith is asking for Shiro’s help finding something on the bridge and the next he’s slamming his palm into the security pad to lock the door and override the security system, locking them inside. Shiro trusts Keith implicitly so he isn’t scared, but he is unprepared to deal with what he suspects might be happening.

“Shiro, talk to me,” Keith urges, hand still on the pad.

“Hi, Keith. How are you today?”

“You’re such a fucking smart ass,” Keith snorts, dropping his palm as he stalks over to Shiro. He grabs Shiro’s hand and the skin to skin contact has Shiro swaying on his feet.

“What’s going on?” Keith asks again, lifting Shiro’s fingers to expose his bloody thumb and hideous bitten-down nails.

Shame burns a hole in Shiro’s gut, bile rising in his throat. He is alive. It’s ungrateful to need more.

“It’s nothing, Keith,” Shiro insists. The lie is bitter, but not as much as the truth.

“Fuck that,” Keith says, dropping Shiro’s hand.

Shiro isn’t sure where Keith’s anger is meant to be directed, though to himself seems the most likely answer. Before Shiro can apologize, Keith slams into Shiro with so much force Shiro stumbles backward, his back banging the wall as Keith’s arms wrap around his middle in a hug.

“Don’t shut me out,” Keith begs. “Please.”

Keith never begs and the quiver of uncertainty in his voice proves to be Shiro’s undoing.

“I just feel wrong sometimes,” Shiro confesses, the words whispered against the top of Keith’s head. It’s easier to say when he’s not looking directly in the depth of his eyes.

“Wrong how?” Keith asks, squeezing him around the middle even tighter. 

The contact makes it both harder and easier to talk because there’s no pretending he’s not real enveloped in the safety of Keith’s embrace.

“Everything is...is a lot. But the biting and the sucking help,” Shiro mumbles, feeling stupid even as he says it. He knows Keith won’t judge him but it’s been so long since he talked about it. As a kid it had been a _bad habit_ he’d been discouraged from continuing. As an adult, it seems like something worse. But Shiro can’t seem to make himself stop no matter how much he tries. 

“How?” Keith asks, breath warm against Shiro’s neck.

If it were anyone but Keith asking, Shiro would shut down immediately. He’s never liked being questioned, too used to people looking for weakness. With Keith he takes it for what it is—curiosity.

“Too loud. Too bright,” he answers softly. “Everything feels weird.”

“Everything?” Keith asks.

Shiro pauses, burying his face in Keith’s hair as Keith’s hug tightens. Though they’re safe on the bridge, Shiro feels as if he might just float away. Keith’s embrace is anchoring, safe.

“Not everything.”

“But a lot is?” Keith queries, clearly desperate to understand.

Shiro nods, unable to resist the urge to inhale the scent of Keith’s hair. It’s just the same generic all-in-one hair and body wash they all use, but somehow it smells better on Keith.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“And the mouth stuff helps?” Keith asks. If he’s bothered by Shiro half nuzzling his hair, he hides it well.

“Yes. I know it’s weird but it helps. When there’s something in my mouth my brain is a little less noisy,” he answers, surprised at how easy it is to tell Keith now that the initial embarrassment and shame has subsided.

“What can I do to help?” Keith asks, pulling back to look him in the eye.

It shocks Shiro to realize he doesn’t have as far down to look anymore. Keith’s taller, stronger—he’s a man now. Has been for a long time.

“Noth—“

“Don’t you dare say nothing, Shiro,” Keith challenges.

“I don’t know,” Shiro whispers.

“I mean, there are a lot of things you can do with your mouth,” Keith offers. “Like...like kissing.”

Shiro’s not sure why Keith’s arms are still wrapped around his middle but that’s the only explanation for what Shiro says next.

“Are you offering?”

The second the words are out of his mouth Shiro wants to throw himself out of the nearest airlock. That’s wildly inappropriate and crazy and—

“Why not,” Keith says with the amount of confidence only Keith can ever manage.

“Keith, you don’t know—“

“Don’t you dare tell me what I don’t know,” Keith interrupts, eyes blazing. “I know a lot of things, Shiro. A lot. More than you can possibly imagine.”

There’s a fire in his eyes, not unlike the look he’d had the first time he’d run a sim after being accepted at the Garrison. It’s a look so full of determination that a weaker man than Shiro would be quaking in his boots.

“Oh, okay.”

Keith’s eyes widen. It’s clearly not what he expected Shiro to say.

“Yeah. Yes. Okay, yes. Then...then I’m offering. You’ve got to know I’d do anything for you, Shiro. Anything.”

It’s everything Shiro wants, which is exactly the problem.

Shiro does know that Keith would do anything for him. He’s proved it time and time again. He knows Keith would burn the world to the ground for him and it’s more than Shiro deserves.

Everyone thinks Shiro is selfless—a giver.

Shiro knows the truth.

Shiro _takes_.

He takes risks.

He takes lives.

He takes and he takes and he leaves nothing in his wake.

And he’s going to take anything Keith will give him because he’s a goddamn mess of a man in love with his best friend.

“Okay, Keith.”

There’s a brief moment of pause as the air vibrates with unspoken words and their eyes lock.

“You can do it,” Keith declares, the line of his jaw jutting forward as he stands just that much taller. 

He doesn’t want Shiro to doubt him. What Keith doesn’t know is that Shiro has never doubted Keith a day in his life.

“Do what, Keith?” Shiro asks.

“Anything,” he answers.

It’s too much power for one man to have. Keith is beautiful and brave and fierce and Shiro hates himself for how much he wants.

There’s not much Shiro remembers from their fight, snatches of feelings, mostly. _Anger. Pain. Hurt._ He remembers Keith’s eyes, though, the deep sadness in them as the clone had closed his eyes for the last time.

And a word. He remembers a word.

_Brother._

_You’re my brother, Shiro._

Except brothers don’t do this, he thinks as he sinks his hand into Keith’s hair and crushes their lips together. Keith’s breath hitches in his throat,soft and quiet, and Shiro kisses him harder. He devours Keith’s mouth, switching their positions so Keith is backed against the wall, gasping into Shiro’s mouth.

Shiro’s not sure if he could stop kissing Keith even if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to.

If they weren’t in the middle of an intergalactic war, Shiro thinks he could spend the rest of his life doing nothing but this. The feel of Keith’s lips against his own is unlike anything Shiro’s new body has ever felt. Perhaps it’s part of being reborn in a body whose memories are not his own, or maybe it’s kissing the man whose voice pulled him out of the darkness. Though Shiro’s mind remembers what it’s like to kiss, this body doesn’t. In a strange and confusing way, it feels like the first time.

He’s glad it’s Keith.

Kissing Keith soothes the itch under Shiro’s skin. It’s heady and sensual and soft and everything Shiro hasn’t let himself want. The slide of their lips, the little noises Keith makes, and the way he gives as good as he gets. 

Shiro has no idea how long they kiss. Long enough for Shiro’s jaw to begin ache and his lips to feel deliciously sore. It’s the best he’s felt in movements.

He kisses Keith until he can barely breathe, and then kisses him more, only pulling out of the kiss when absolutely necessary,when it feels as if he’s choosing between his last breath and Keith.

He picks breathing, but only because it will mean more Keith.

For his own part Keith looks a bit dazed, his shirt wrinkled from where Shiro’s hand was fisted a few ticks prior and his hair a mess—well, more than usual. His lips are kiss-swollen, spit shining on them and pink as the color rising on his cheeks.

“How do you feel?” Keith asks breathlessly.

“Good,” Shiro answers, surprised at just how true the answer is.

Keith licks his lips before lifting his hand and grazing the tips of his fingers over Shiro’s, all the while eyes locked on Shiro.

“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro whispers, reality beginning to set in.

He just kissed Keith. _Keith_ , his best friend. Keith, who he’s been in love with since before his time in Black’s consciousness. Keith, who thinks of him as family not a lover but is willing to do anything to help Shiro, including apparently this.

“We can...we can do this again. If it helps,” Keith offers, always so kind. “Let me help. Please.”

He’s not begging but he doesn’t need to. Shiro would do anything for Keith.

Anything.

“Okay,” Shiro breathes.

Shiro might be strong but he’s not that strong. He can’t turn down Keith even if every bit of him knows he should. It’s selfish and dangerous and it can’t possibly end without someone getting hurt, but Shiro already hurts all the time and the idea of making that stop for a little bit is too alluring.

“Okay, good,” Keith says, pushing himself off the wall. “I promised Hunk I’d help recalibrate the sensors on the airlock. But you could come to my room later. Just to hang out or...or if you need me.”

“If I need you,” Shiro echoes.

“Yeah, if you need me. If you, uh...you know.” Keith clears his throat, clearly doing his best not to blush as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “If you need to do more mouth stuff.”

Mouth stuff.

Shiro can think of something he wants to do with his mouth right now.

“Will you come? If you need me,” Keith clarifies, tapping at the door lock until it slides open.

Shiro doesn’t know how to answer that. He always needs Keith. In a universe where very little makes any sense anymore, Keith has been his North Star. He’s not supposed to do anything to mess that up.

Then again, Shiro’s always been pretty good at doing what he’s not supposed to.

“I’ll come,” Shiro answers.

It’s not the smart answer but it's worth the way Keith smiles,the way tension bleeds out of him as his body visibly sags with relief. Shiro needs Keith and Keith needs to be needed. They’re both hot messes that way.

Despite his promise to come that night if he needs Keith, Shiro resists the urge.

There's needing Keith and there's being _needy_ , and Shiro hates feeling needy.

So when bedtime comes, Shiro does not. He lays in his empty bed and stares at the ceiling, snapping his teeth together over and over as he ignores the rising anxiety swirling in his gut. He doesn't want to risk asking for too much too soon. Keith's so giving and it's Shiro's job to pace how much he takes.

It's fine, he tells himself.

Except, it's not fine. Not even a little bit.

The only upside is that not being fine is basically Shiro’s new normal and has been for a long time. He can deal with being not fine. Or at least he thinks he can. Turns out not being fine is harder to cope with when there’s the possibility of feeling better being dangled in front of him. He’s usually only able to cope because he knows there’s nothing and no one who can fix the little broken things inside of him. This time, though,Keith has offered and Shiro wants. 

He makes it nearly two varga before his resolve cracks. There’s a pile of space sucker sticks on the side of his bed, the strange paper sticks macerated and falling apart from chewing since he’s run out of hydration pack straws.

He's got nothing, and the itch beneath his skin is making him practically vibrate.

In lieu of going to visit Keith he forces himself into the bathroom to brush his teeth. It's only when he realizes he's chewing down the bristles that he accepts he needs something else.

Or, someone else, if Shiro is being truthful.

Shiro lasts another ten dobosh before he's slipping his feet into his boots and shuffling down the dark hallways as quietly as possible.

Keith's room is close, as all the Paladins are. It makes getting ready for emergencies much easier. It occurs to Shiro that Keith's is the only room Shiro's ever been inside.

For all people think Shiro is good with people, the truth is that he's not. Not in the way most people think. He's good at getting other people to open up, but he doesn't do the same. 

Keith is different. Keith's always been different.

It's almost funny when he thinks about it, how often Keith says Shiro saved him. Shiro knows the truth. It's Keith who saved _him_. Then he saved him again and again and he keeps on doing it. If he had it his way, Keith would probably flip the Grim Reaper off and tell him to go back to hell.

A more selfless man than Shiro would stop letting Keith sacrifice everything for him, but Shiro's selflessness began to run out the day he had to choose between taking a life or keeping his own.

It changed something in him, put a darkness there in his heart that scares him. It doesn't seem to scare Keith, though, and Shiro's too grateful to question it.

There's a shadow over Shiro's heart, but Keith's never been scared of the dark.

When Shiro is finally situated outside Keith’s room, he doesn't knock. He's been keyed in to the security clearance for Keith's room since their first night on the castleship. It’s just that this is the first time he’s used it.

Shiro’s palm rests over the security pad for only a tick before the door slides open whisper- quiet. Shiro's heart, on the other hand, thunders in his chest, loud as a raging storm.

It's dark in Keith's room, the only light source coming from a small little glowing orb on the side table. A fresh wave of guilt assaults Shiro at the sight. 

Unaware of Shiro's arrival, Keith slumbers on. Even in the darkness it's easy to notice the tension in Keith's body as he sleeps, his hand fisted in the sheet and his body rigid.

For all Shiro has taken, he also wants to give. Especially for Keith.

Shiro is careful not to make any sudden noises as he steps into the room, the door sliding shut behind him automatically. He doesn't even think about leaving. He's here now and nothing in the world could take him from this room—from Keith.

The bed dips beneath his weight as he sits, kicking off his boots.

Keith shifts in his sleep, body rolling towards Shiro's almost unconsciously. Shiro wants to touch so badly, so he does,fingers trembling as they smooth the hair back off Keith's forehead.

Keith exhales at the touch, mouth falling open and body going lax. It's nice to see him look at peace, even if it's only temporary. Shiro repeats the action, letting his fingers stroke all the way through Keith's hair this time, surprised at how very soft it is.

The deeper touch is enough to rouse Keith, whose eyes fly open, panic evident.

"It's just me," Shiro whispers, pulling his hand back into his lap.

"Shiro?"

"Yeah, Keith. Yeah."

Keith breathes in deeply as he attempts to blink the sleepiness from his eyes.

Shiro feels guilty for waking him, but that's nothing new. Shiro feels guilty for most things these days.

Keith doesn't ask why he's there. It's a pointless question. They both know.

"You should've come earlier," is what he says instead.

It shatters the last bit of resolve Shiro's been clinging to. It's been so very long since Shiro felt safe.

Keith is safe.

Before Shiro can say anything Keith is scooting over, lifting the threadbare blanket to make room for Shiro in his bed. Shiro doesn't hesitate to slip beneath the covers, exhaling a shaky breath as Keith's hand finds purchase on his hip as if to urge him all that much closer.

"Keith," Shiro whispers.

He's not even sure what he wants to say. He just likes the sound of Keith's name falling from his lips, like the vibration of the syllables as he speaks them and the responding way Keith's features soften as if just maybe, it pleases Keith too.

"I'm still offering, Shiro," he says, eyes still hooded with sleep and voice heavy.

Keith's so brave. Always taking that first leap.

"I want—" but he bites off the words. Shiro wants too much. He always has.

His wants lead to loss.

He wanted to fly and Kerberos happened.

He wanted to live and he became a champion. _The Champion._

Shiro wants and other people pay the price. Most of the time he tries not to want anything, at least not for himself. He wants things for his friends, for Keith, and for the universe. But selfish desires for himself, he tries to ignore.

He can’t ignore this.

"What do you want?" Keith asks, fingers slipping beneath Shiro's undershirt,palm spread wide over the flat of his hip.

The touch sets Shiro’s body aflame. Keith’s never shy with touching him, especially since the astral plane. Sometimes Shiro wonders if Keith knows how touch-starved Shiro is. He’s never said as much, but it’s Keith, so Shiro wouldn’t be surprised to find he’d sussed it out. He’s always been good at reading between the lines of what Shiro doesn’t say.

Shiro's mouth opens but nothing will come out. He wants Keith so much it terrifies him.

He wants to press Keith down into the mattress and kiss him. He wants to link his fingers with Keith's and never let go. He wants to devour Keith’s mouth until he's writhing and moaning with Shiro's name falling from his mouth.

He wants too goddamn much.

It's always been Shiro's problem. He's never had reasonable wishes. It was the moon or nothing and Keith isn't just the moon, he's Shiro's entire universe.

He's everything.

Keith fills in the gaps of what Shiro cannot say, wiggling sideways until his back hits the wall. Then he tilts his head back and bares his throat. The offer is unmistakable and Shiro does what he always does.

He takes.

With an urgency he didn’t know he still possessed, he moves closer. Keith's skin is warm beneath Shiro's lips as he mouths at the side of his neck, barely able to contain his own whimper. Skin, so much glorious warm skin.

"Oh," Keith exhales, scrambling to grab a hold of Shiro's shoulders.

Shiro thinks maybe he should say something but there are things he'd rather do with his mouth than speak. Things like sucking on the taut skin of Keith's neck, harder and harder until Shiro can barely breathe. The lack of oxygen heightens the sensation, makes it feel more real.

There was a time Shiro had no breath in his lungs or blood in his veins. No body. No nothing.

The twang in his chest reminding him that he needs oxygen is proof that he is alive and Shiro revels in it, riding high on his own breathlessness.

Everything about it sings to Shiro’s under stimulated sensory system—the warmth of Keith’s sleep mussed skin, the scent of him, the sounds he makes and the feeling of tender flesh beneath his lips. He especially likes the way it feels to graze his teeth over Keith's sensitive skin before attaching his lips and sucking hard.

It's too dark to really see, but Shiro can imagine the way the skin might look when he’s done.he suction’s definitely hard enough to break the blood vessels beneath Keith's skin and leave a mark where his mouth is. Shiro likes the idea of marking Keith as much as he likes the pressure against his lips and the tightness in his chest.

Beneath him, Keith pants as his nails dig into Shiro's shoulder. There will be crescent marks there tomorrow and that, too, is something Shiro likes.

It feels real.

In this moment Shiro can forget that he's broken.

He can forget they're fighting a war they may not win.

He can forget that Keith doesn't love Shiro the same way Shiro loves Keith.

He forgets everything except this.

The next night, Shiro doesn't bother trying to pretend he's not going to end up in Keith's room. He showers and changes into his pajamas, waiting only long enough for the rest of the Paladins and Allura and Coran to fall asleep before slipping out of his room and into Keith's.

This time Keith is awake. Somehow it makes it feel more real.

He's already backed into the corner, the blanket folded down. He's not making space for Shiro. The space is already there. 

Keith's good at making room for Shiro. When his heart was too small, he somehow still found a place for Shiro. When his hope was even smaller, he made room there too.

The Paladins had a long day. Keith's tired and battle-worn and his bed is barely big enough for one. He's made it big enough for two.

Keith's selflessness has no limits.

Shiro lives in constant fear of taking too much but he doesn't know how to stop. Keith's the one thing—the one person—Shiro can't stop himself from wanting. 

“Come,” Keith whispers and Shiro does, moving beneath the covers until his body is flush with Keith’s. When Keith arches his neck, Shiro doesn’t hesitate to attach his mouth to the proffered flesh. 

Night by night it goes on like that until Keith's body is riddled with purple marks from Shiro's mouth. When he runs out of room on Keith’s neck, Shiro makes sure to leave them in places Keith can cover with clothing. The last thing Keith needs is nosy questions from Lance or Pidge because of Shiro.

The strange thing is, the more Shiro's allowed to kiss and bite and suck, the more he wants.

Suddenly the other things he was doing to keep his mouth occupied won't satisfy. He doesn't want a straw in his mouth, or a chewed up sucker stick or any number of other things that had at one time seemed good enough.

He wants Keith's cock.

One of Shiro’s greatest assets in life is his refusal to give up on the things he wants. He’s always had a single-minded kind of focus that helped him achieve his dreams. He sees what he wants and he gets it. This time, Shiro’s ability to hyper focus is his downfall. Once he gets the idea of Keith’s cock in his mouth into his brain, he can’t forget it.

Shiro tries to focus on other things. He goes through so many damn hydration pouches that even Hunk starts to give him strange looks. He leaves marks on Keith’s skin in new places,the delicate inside of his thigh and the back of his calves, just to see if the change will help.

Nothing helps.

Shiro doesn’t want Keith to notice, which naturally means that he does.

“You need something more?” Keith asks one night. He’s sitting crossed-legged, dressed in nothing but his boxers and a t-shirt that shows off the many marks on his neck and thighs.

Shiro should say no. He knows he should. Keith is already giving him too much and it’s not right for Shiro to still be aching for more.

“What would help?” Keith asks, filling in the silence between them with the type of forwardness Shiro has come to expect from him.

Shiro doesn’t mean to let his gaze drop down to Keith’s lap, but it happens anyway.

As soon as he realizes what he’s done, he averts his gaze, but the damage is done. Keith’s always been smart,always been so damn observant.

“Oh,” Keith exhales, eyes widening.

“No,” Shiro chokes out, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s okay. You don’t have to. I’m okay.”

It’s a lie, but Shiro’s always been a good liar. It’s easy to lie when the lie is simpler to swallow than the truth.

The bed dips as Keith moves, inching closer to Shiro. Warm hands reach out for Shiro, smoothing over his bare knees. There’s a scar on the pad of Keith’s left index finger and his hands are calloused and rough, but he touches Shiro with such gentleness it startles an inhuman sound from him. The sound is instinctual,a choked out sob as Keith’s fingers, so small but so lethal, slide over his legs.

“You can. You can do anything, Shiro.”

Shiro’s opens his eyes. He doesn’t feel brave, but maybe he can be for Keith. His hands don’t shake as he reaches for Keith’s boxers. He’s the Champion, after all. If he can kill with his bare hands without shaking, he can touch Keith without letting it show that he feels like he’s breaking inside.

 _Victory or death_ , the Galra had once cheered. Shiro hadn’t realized then what he knows now—victory was death.

Keith is everything good left in the universe. He’s something worth fighting for.

Shiro doesn’t feel worthy but he pushes Keith’s shirt up all the same, watching the muscles in his stomach flutter as he leans back on his elbows and watches Shiro.

“Have you done this before?” Shiro asks, knuckles skimming against the warm flesh of Keith’s belly as he teases his fingers under the waistband.

“Doesn’t matter,” Keith answers, a familiar fire blazing in his eyes.

It’s all the answer Shiro needs.

Sometimes Shiro feels like a wild thing,frayed and raw at every end and broken on the inside. There’s nothing soft left, except when he touches Keith.

“Lay down,” Shiro instructs, somehow surprised when Keith does it.

Keith’s not someone who is naturally good at taking orders—too headstrong and willful—but he’s always taken Shiro’s. His faith in Shiro is infallible, his devotion limitless. It’s too much power for one person to hold.

Shiro wants more than anything to deserve this,to deserve _Keith_.

"I trust you, Shiro."

It's everything he needs to hear and nothing he deserves.

Shiro wants to ask why, but he chokes down the thought along with all the other things he wants to say to Keith. Some things are better left unsaid, after all, and this is one of them. His grandma had once told Shiro to never ask questions unless he was prepared for the answers. He is not prepared.

Shiro’s fingers wrap around the elastic of Keith’s waistband, tugging it down his slim hips and then dropping them on the floor. If Keith is nervous he doesn’t show it, but Shiro knows he’s not the only one good at hiding things.

For several ticks he simply stares, captivated by the way Keith’s skin glows in the shadow of the light from his orb lamp. He’s quiet as he spreads his legs to make room for Shiro, the rise and fall of his chest mesmerizing.

“Breathe,” Shiro whispers, unsure if he’s talking to Keith or himself.

Keith keeps his eyes locked on Shiro’s—resting on his elbows, neck cranes down to watch—as Shiro opens his mouth and engulfs Keith’s cock.

It’s hard by now, though Shiro tries not to read too much into it. Keith’s young and inexperienced and someone offered to blow him. Of course he’s hard. It doesn’t mean it’s because of Shiro.

Everything has been about Shiro’s needs lately and the least Shiro can do is make this good for Keith. It’s what he deserves. He deserves everything.

Shiro’s not ashamed to admit he’s always loved a cock in his mouth, even before his weird post-astral plane oral obsession. He loves the salty, musky taste and heavy weight against his tongue. He likes feeling full, likes barely being able to breathe as he hollows his cheeks and sucks.

It’s been years since he’s sucked someone else off and Shiro wants to believe that it’s like riding a bike, you never forget. It’s not the truth. The truth is it takes Shiro a dobosh to get the pace just right. Every time Shiro starts to suck at the cockhead or tease his tongue along the slit, Keith arches his hips up as if he can’t help himself.

Keith’s too eager and Shiro isn’t much better. It’s amazing.

The constant barrage of anxiety that usually permeates Shiro’s consciousness dims to background noise as he sucks. Keith’s cock is thick—thicker than Shiro would’ve guessed for his lithe size—and Shiro has to really relax his jaw to get it all in his mouth. Shiro swears he can feel nearly invisible ridges along the bottom as he drags his tongue over it.  
Eager for more, he opens his mouth as wide as it’ll go, swallowing him down so deep his cock slides down the back of Shiro’s throat as his nose is shoved into the dark patch of curls above Keith’s cock.

Keith’s scent is muskier here and there’s salty precome dripping down his throat and Shiro hasn’t felt this good in so long. The weight of Keith’s cock in his mouth is heady, the stretch of his lips taking him all in grounding. As he sucks he tongues at the underside of his cock.

Just as Shiro’s really settling into it—inhaling Keith’s scent as he bobs his head—Keith lets out a broken cry as he arches off the bed, coming hard down Shiro’s throat without warning.

It’s unexpected and a boost to Shiro’s confidence. Maybe Keith would have reacted to any mouth on his cock, but Shiro lets himself believe at least some of it is because of him. He lets himself relish in finally being able to give instead of take.

“Holy fucking shit,” Keith stutters, throwing an arm over his face as Shiro continues to lick and suck him clean, greedily swallowing down every last drop of his release. “I’m so sorry.”

Shiro wants so badly to tell him it’s okay but he’s loathe to let Keith’s cock out of his mouth. He’s not ready to give up the feeling of fullness in his mouth so he hums instead, hoping Keith gets the message as he rubs his tongue along the underside of Keith’s rapidly softening cock.

“Oh my god,” Keith groans, dropping his arms at his sides instead. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Again Shiro wants to tell him it’s okay, but if he does that then Keith’s cock will fall from his mouth and he won’t have an excuse to put it back in. It’s flaccid now, a soft but heavy weight against his tongue. Keith’s small enough when not erect that all of him fits in Shiro’s mouth,just barely. It’s a big mouthful and Shiro loves it.

He likes the weight of it on his tongue as much now as he did when it was erect. He’s had a soft cock in his mouth before, years ago, but not like this. Back then it was a precursor to getting his partner hard. This is the opposite. Shiro’s already got Keith off and the euphoria of that release still pulses through his veins.

Shiro knows it doesn’t make sense to want Keith’s soft cock to stay in his mouth but he does. There’s an ache he can feel starting in his jaw as he keeps him inside and he loves it. He loves everything about a mouthful of soft warm flesh.

Unable to tell Keith how he feels, Shiro does the only thing he can, he shows him.

Shiro lets out a contented sigh, louder and longer than he normally would. He’s no longer sucking because he doesn’t want to overstimulate Keith, just holding him in his mouth now.

Keith lifts himself up onto his elbows, eyes unfocused as he peers at Shiro. He’s so cute.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

There’s no point in pulling off his cock to answer. Shiro doesn’t know. Finding comfort in your best friend's soft cock in your mouth sounds insane even by Shiro standards. It's the truth, though.

Desperate to convey something of his desires, confusing as they seem even to Shiro, he closes his eyes and rests his cheek against the flat of Keith’s lower belly, his soft cock still safely nestled between Shiro’s lips.

“Oh,” Keith whispers, voice ripe with surprise and something that sounds an awful lot like awe. “You...you want to stay there?”

Shiro nods. Or as much as one can nod with a mouth full of cock they’re hoarding in their mouth like a dragon guarding its treasure. There’s a few ticks of silence where Shiro imagines his current sense of contentment being ripped away,a visceral ache piercing his heart at the very idea. It doesn’t happen. Shiro shouldn’t be surprised. This is Keith, after all,and Keith’s always accepted Shiro, broken bits and all.

Nimble fingers find their way into his forelock, stroking it off his forehead. It’s the single most soothing moment of Shiro’s adult life.

“Shh,” Keith murmurs, doing it again. Shiro lets himself drift as Keith’s fingers continue to stroke through his forelock,eyes fluttering shut and his remaining tension bleeding away. Shiro’s mouth is full, his mind empty.

As he rests, Shiro focuses on all of his senses—the rise and fall of Keith’s abdomen beneath Shiro’s head, the scent of sex permeating the small room and the incredible fullness in his mouth. The longer Shiro cradles Keith’s cock in his mouth, the more relaxed he feels.

Shiro’s not sure how long they stay like that, too blissed out to focus on anything else and his normally impeccable sense of time nowhere to be found. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, he thinks. Keith’s made no indication he will ask Shiro to leave and Shiro is perfectly happy to stay as long as Keith will allow.

It’s only when the fingers in his hair disappear that Shiro moves, head shifting just enough to turn his gaze on Keith.

“Oh, I thought you were asleep.”

Much as Shiro is sure he could stay there all night, he’s pretty sure that’s testing the limits of what even Keith is willing to give, so Shiro lets Keith’s cock fall from his lips, mouth oddly empty.

“No,” he whispers.

Keith scoots up, shoving a second pillow behind him as he half leans up. He doesn’t pat the empty spot on the bed beside him. He pats his chest.

It's another thing Shiro takes without question, eagerly crawling up Keith’s body and sprawling on top of him. He tries to support some of his weight but it’s awkward and his limbs are shaky.

“Lay down, Shiro,” Keith orders, not unkindly.

Shiro does as he’s told, letting his full weight collapse atop Keith’s chest. His own cock is half hard at best, pressed between their bodies and despite his own arousal simmering in the background, he wants nothing more than this,laying atop Keith’s body as he listens to the loud thud of Keith’s heart beating in his chest.

“I’m heavy,” Shiro mumbles, still a little worried about his weight. Not enough to move, though. Keith’s chest is the best pillow he’s ever had.

“Yeah, you are,” Keith agrees, bringing a hand up and resting it lightly on Shiro’s lower back. Keith’s good at that, at making sure his touches are never a surprise. Shiro doesn’t like surprises. “Guess it's a good thing I’m strong.”

It’s an understatement. Keith’s not just strong,he’s a force to be reckoned with. Shiro’s seen Keith take down enemies twice his size and still walk away standing. Keith could destroy anyone he wanted and sometimes Shiro can’t help but marvel that with that kind of power he still always chooses to save instead, not just the world, but Shiro. Always Shiro.

“How do you feel?” Keith asks, waiting long enough for Shiro to acclimate to the hand at his lower back near the worst of his scars before skimming his fingertips over them.

“Good, Keith. I feel good.”

“I’m so glad, Shiro,” he says, and Shiro believes it. Whatever strangeness lay in Shiro’s heart or mind, it doesn’t seem to bother Keith. 

“We can do this again, you know,” Keith says, voice as soft and gentle as the fingers on his back.

“The blowjob or the other thing?” Shiro asks quietly, unsure why Keith’s fingers along the gnarled scar at his back are making him want to cry.

“Whatever you want,” Keith answers without hesitation as he drags the rough pads of his fingers down Shiro’s spine.

“You’re too good to me,” Shiro chokes out, before he can think better about voicing that thought aloud.

Keith’s fingers still. “Shiro, that’s literally not fucking possible.”

Shiro doesn’t know what kind of sound he makes, but it must be worrisome enough because Keith moves his hands to Shiro’s face, urging his jaw up so his face is turned towards Keith.

“Hey, talk to me.”

“You’re really pretty, Keith.”

The tip of Keith’s nose goes red as he cups Shiro’s face in his hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

Shiro shakes his head. “You deserve someone who tells you that you’re pretty. And brave. And that you’re worth everything.”

“So you, then,” Keith finishes, his words hanging heavy in the air.

Shiro blinks, startled at the observation. Those are all things Shiro tells Keith. And often. But he can’t mean what Shiro thinks. He can’t.

“We’re friends,” Shiro exhales.

“Yes,” Keith agrees, thumb stroking over the side of Shiro’s jaw.

“And you help your friends.”

Keith’s expression shifts rapidly from confusion to something else. “Shiro, what do you think this is?”

He doesn’t need to clarify what he means by _this_ , Shiro knows exactly what Keith means.

“You’re helping me because...because I’m broken. You help all your friends. You’re such a good person.”

“If you’re implying I might let Lance put my cock in his mouth I might have to push you out of this bed,” Keith croaks.

“Well, no,” Shiro splutters, unable to imagine a single universe where Keith and Lance would ever be together. The thought alone is as ridiculous as it is horrifying.

“Good, then we’re agreed,” Keith says. “You’re special.”

Shiro doesn’t know how to argue that. Worse, he doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Keith.”

Keith slips his hands under Shiro’s armpits as he tries to pull him up and Shiro helps, shimmying until they’re side by side.

“Shiro, I know I don’t have a lot of experience but I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“Why?” Shiro asks. “You’re the one helping me.”

“Yeah, really magnanimous of me letting you suck my dick,” Keith laughs.

Shiro doesn’t laugh with him.

“Wait, you’re serious,” Keith murmurs. “ _Shiro_.”

“I know you’d do anything to help me.”

“Yeah, because I love you,” Keith says as if it's obvious.

Shiro inhales so sharply the oxygen feels like a knife in his lungs. “Yes, like a brother.”

It’s Keith’s turn to make an unintelligible sound. “Fuck, is that what’s going on?”

“I don’t remember a lot,” Shiro whispers, willing his voice not to quiver. “The clone’s memories aren’t mine, but when Allura put my consciousness into this body some of the stronger memories fused with my own. You said brother. I remember that.”

“Brother, sure,” Keith says, eyes softening. “Comrade in arms. Friend. Best friend. Better half. Love of my life. My North Star. I can go all night if you want me to.”

Shiro believes him. There’s only one person alive more stubborn than Shiro and that’s Keith.  
In Shiro’s silence, Keith keeps talking.

“I didn’t want to push you, Shiro. I never wanted to make you say it out loud. I thought...it’s just—I know, okay? You look at me and I know you love me. How could I fucking not?”

“Am I that obvious?” Shiro asks.

“To me. Shiro, you just...I know how you treat me. How you look at me. How you talk to me. You never needed to say the words back. I knew. I’ve always known.”

Keith inches forward until their noses are squashed together and they’re sharing the same air. “I love you, Shiro.”

For once Shiro doesn’t entertain the idea of choking back the words. Instead, he sets them free.

“I love you too, Keith. I love you so much.”

Keith’s smile is soft but radiant as he presses their lips together, the softest of kisses that soothes the racing of Shiro’s fragile heart.

“Do you think you can sleep?” Keith asks when he pulls back, pushing back Shiro’s forelock and stroking his thumb over Shiro’s brow.

Shiro must look as sleepy as he’s starting to feel.

“I think so,” he whispers, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Keith smiles again, kissing him once more before seeking out Shiro’s hand and entwining their fingers. He pulls their joined hands up to rest against his chest.

“Goodnight, Shiro.”

“Goodnight,” Shiro echoes, the lightness in his body buoying him into slumber.

There are still so many things Shiro doesn’t know—so many things he isn’t sure he is or knows how to be anymore. The one thing he knows for sure is that he is Keith’s, and as his own eyes flutter shut, he thinks that maybe that is enough.

Maybe, just maybe, Shiro is enough too.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream about Sheith with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813)


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